


Dragon Deserter

by stupidsexysock



Series: Dragon Riders [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dragon sex, Egg Laying, Eggpreg, M/M, Mpreg, Oviposition, Pregnancy, Threesome, erotic birth, noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:20:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29120343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stupidsexysock/pseuds/stupidsexysock
Summary: They were very high up now, and the land below was full of creeping shadows. Thelf struggled mightily. A plummet to the rocks below would at least be a quick death if he landed on his head and not his feet. He'd heard terrible tales about what Lord Wyman made men do with dragons. The details were... vague, yes, but the stories always went on about the depravity of it all. Thelf was a good man, always tithing more than was required in church and never chasing after women. Even a little bit of depravity would destroy him utterly.-A simple shepherd goes on the run after his encounter with a dragon.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Dragon, Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: Dragon Riders [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2126364
Comments: 14
Kudos: 150





	1. Taking

The beast took him at twilight. Thelf had been watching his sheep anxiously, on high alert for the movement of wings overhead. He'd practiced with his bow and the makeshift spear the village smith had made for him. The dragon had thinned out everyone's flocks, but it had stolen from his three times, and each animal he lost was a little less money he needed to survive the winter.

The price of food was climbing higher than ever. It should have been good for shepherds like him, with Lord Wyman buying up so much livestock, but his lord had forbidden all his subjects from selling to Lord Wyman's agents. He had to deal instead with the army purveyors, who squeezed every penny til it bled, telling him all the while that he should be proud to supply food to the brave boys fighting against evil Lord Wyman.

War was good for nobles but bad for commoners. And though Lord Wyman had his tame dragons, there were still plenty of wild beasts about. He'd known the risks in taking his sheep so high up into the mountains to graze, but the summer had been scorching hot and the best grass was already eaten or dried up. Up in the cooler mountain air, there was still enough to fatten up his charges.

He was worrying over pennies and pounds of mutton, watching the sky above the sheep, so it was a shock when the beast flew up behind him and snatched him up into the air. He managed a single jab upwards with the spear he was holding in place of his shepherd's crook, but the dragon shook him violently and he lost hold of the weapon. His bow was slung over his back, crushed against his shoulder now by the great strength of the dragon's grip.

They were very high up now, and the land below was full of creeping shadows. Thelf struggled mightily. A plummet to the rocks below would at least be a quick death if he landed on his head and not his feet. He'd heard terrible tales about what Lord Wyman made men do with dragons. The details were... vague, yes, but the stories always went on about the depravity of it all. Thelf was a good man, always tithing more than was required in church and never chasing after women. Even a little bit of depravity would destroy him utterly.

The dragon showed no signs of being even slightly bothered by the way Thelf was thrashing around. He'd heard Lord Wyman's army was in the north, but this beast was turning west, heading for the highest point of the mountain range where Thelf had camped with his flock. What would Lord Wyman's spies want to do all the way out here?

The dragon dropped him on a wide, flat rock. They were very high up, well above the tree line, and Thelf was shivering from cold and terror. He unslung his bow and finally managed, on only his third try, to notch an arrow. His shot went wide of the dragon. Snatched up by the mountain winds, Thelf told himself, although in truth it wasn't all that blustery this evening.

The dragon let him loose another arrow in its general direction before it snaked its long neck out and butted him to the ground. There was no rider on its back, Thelf realized, and no saddle a rider might have fallen from. This was a truly wild dragon, not one of Lord Wyman's monstrous pets.

Well, then he was to be eaten. It was still a terrible fate, but not the worst he had imagined. He'd dropped his bow, so he closed his eyes and prepared for the final bite.

The dragon snuffled around him, its breath hot on his face. It even put out a long, thick tongue to lick his cheek and then again on the sensitive skin of his neck. Thelf jumped at the horrible wet sensation of it and felt tears stinging his eyes. Why didn't it have the decency to wait to taste him until after it had killed him?

It continued its explorations with its tongue, licking in broad swipes across the front of his tunic. It managed to hook his belt and shook him by it until the strap dug into Thelf's flesh, but he'd knotted it over and the thick leather didn't give. Snarling, it began to pick at the belt, its claws flashing far too close to Thelf's stomach. If it meant to disembowel him, it was taking its time about it.

The belt parted at last, sliced in two by a wickedly curved talon. Thelf gulped and prepared to meet his end, but the dragon stuck its tongue up under his tunic, running its tongue in wide wet swipes along the flesh of his belly. The tongue snaked downwards, into his trousers, and Thelf gasped at the unexpected sensation of the beast licking along his most sensitive parts. It growled again, making Thelf shake, and raised its claws again to pick at his trousers. Soon they were ripped to ribbons.

Thelf felt horribly vulnerable lying belly-up before the beast. When it reared up, the remains of his trousers dangling from a single talon, he flipped over and pressed his face to the bare rock. It was very cold, but he hardly felt it, even against the sensitive and still-wet skin of his cock. He was passing through fear into the place beyond it, the state of shock so profound that there was nothing in his mind but the blank whiteness of new-fallen snow.

The dragon nudged him with a claw, forcing his rear end upwards. He huddled with his knees tucked under him, still waiting for the final bite or the last burst of flame that would sear him alive. When the pain came, it was behind him, but it wasn't the sharp slice of teeth or claws. He felt a burning pressure at his ass, pushing into his guts, and then a gush of heat inside him that stood in sharp contrast to the chill air.

He waited, and waited, and still didn't die. The pressure didn't abate, but kept plunging deeper into him. The burning pain began to recede, or he was growing so numb he no longer noticed it. Thelf wasn't sure which it might be. There was very little he was sure of anymore, until the dragon made a strange sound that was more pleased than angry, and the pressure pulled back for a bit before plowing deeper in.

He was being fucked, Thelf realized, by an enormous cock. He ought to struggle, but his legs were too cold and weak to move under him, and his arms would not obey him when he tried to pull himself away. The dragon's cock moved out and in again, each thrust deeper than the one before, until Thelf felt scales rubbing against his cheeks. It had sheathed itself entirely in him, deeper than he thought any object could possibly go without killing him. Maybe he _was_ dying, and that was why his body refused to obey his wishes. He felt no wound, no obvious tear, but the dragon's cock was surely destroying his insides.

Thelf felt tears trickling down his cheeks, but only distantly, as if it were someone else that was crying and he was only watching from elsewhere. The dragon kept up its pace, and its cock was only getting wider. There was a section at the base that was so large it couldn't breech him. Thelf felt it bumping against his hole, each time with increasing force.

It shouldn't have been able to get inside him, but at last he felt his hole give as the dragon slammed its hips into him. He felt himself fading fast, so light-headed from shock that there was already blackness at the edges of his vision. The dragon kept fucking him, that horrible swollen bulge battering his insides, and Thelf gratefully gave into the darkness.

He woke up some time later, shivering on the rock. He'd fallen from his kneeling position and was sprawled sideways, with his arm numb under him. The dragon was gone and he still wasn't dead.

He stood, feeling sick and shaky, and pulled his cloak tight around him. It covered most of his bare legs, at least, and his tunic was long enough to hide his shame below the waist. His hole felt stretched out, and he could feel a trickle of something wet coming from it. More of the dragon's seed had crusted on his thighs. He shuddered and set off at once for the only path he saw leading down off the mountain.

What the dragon had managed in minutes took him a full day of walking to accomplish. It didn't help that he had to keep pausing and clutching at his belly; it felt strangely sore and bloated, even though he hadn't eaten for a full day and night. He kept going, spurred on by the fear that the dragon would find him again if he stopped to rest.

At last he was back in the foothills. His pack was where he'd left it. Thank goodness he had a second pair of trousers. He had no other belt, so he made do with a length of rope and went to round up his flock. He wanted to take no more chances grazing them so close to the dragon's lair.

Autumn wore on. Thelf had to sell off most of his flock, reserving only some ewes and a single ram for breeding. Food was so expensive, and he was nearly always hungry. He was gaining some weight. It seemed to settle only at his midsection.

With the darker days came dark news. Lord Wyman's forces were not bound by the limits of supply lines or the obstacles of rivers and mountains. Even in the midst of winter, while other armies were stuck fast in the snow, they struck hard and unpredictably. Dragons saw better than men in the dark, and each ambush came with high casualties. The king himself was growing fearful of his unruly lord's strength, but to declare him in open rebellion was to throw his whole kingdom into a war he might not win. 

The only solace of the common folk was that one lord was much the same as another. Thelf had been paying high taxes all his life to Lord Garrick, and before him Lord Leofrick, and never so much as caught a glimpse of the men who grew fat on the riches of his labor. It was strange that he kept growing fatter himself now. Even though there was less food to go around, his stomach kept expanding.

His other appetites were increasing with his waistline. Thelf had thought he kept himself pure because he was a devout man; now, no amount of prayer could stop him from thinking about sex day and night. With little to do over the winter, he spent hours abusing himself, yet never felt fully satisfied. Once he even dreamed of the dragon's cock pounding into him, and woke shamefully hard.

He hadn't told anyone about the dragon. Perhaps he should have come up with a story about how he'd fought it off, since ever since it took him its appetite had declined and it now took sheep only once in a great while. At first he was too ashamed to even mention it, and then the months passed and he was sure no one would believe him. Shepherds were notorious for making up stories about what they'd seen when they were alone with their flocks.

On the winter solstice, Thelf finally admitted to himself that something was wrong with his belly. He dug out his finest tunic and put it on for the festival, but the fabric in front that had once been loose now stretched tight over his front. He buckled his new belt under it, which only made the bulge look horribly prominent. It would have to do. He'd be covered up with a cloak anyway.

The usual processions through the village left him strangely winded, with his back aching from the weight at his front. When he sat down in his friend Eorman's house for a drink, Eorman's pregnant wife laughed and said, "Thelf, you look like you're carrying a child!"

Thelf protested that he wasn't nearly so large, but she pulled her dress tight and showed him that her own belly was about as big as his. "You're the only man in the village who's managed to get fatter," Eorman said, while Thelf rounded his shoulders and tried to make his gut look smaller.

At last he'd run out of excuses for his condition. He gathered up enough money to pay the healer, already feeling the pinch of hunger from all the meals he'd have to miss, and set out on the long walk to the market town where the healer lived. He never did like being ill, but this examination was worse than any he'd had before. The healer spent a long time poking at his swollen belly from every angle, then told him to take his trousers off. He handled Thelf's cock, already half-hard in spite of his profound embarrassment, and shocked him further by thumbing at his hole. The digit sank to the first joint almost immediately, and Thelf felt no pain at the intrusion, only a curious relief at being opened.

"What does your stool look like?" the healer asked when he'd finally allowed Thelf to pull his trousers back up.

"I--haven't been able to," Thelf admitted. What that what this whole bulge was? He'd heard of constipation, but never for this long. Would it kill him?

The healer looked grave. To Thelf's surprise, he went to the door of his examining room and peered out to make sure they were truly alone. He returned to Thelf's side and said in a low, urgent tone, "Tell me truly now. Were you taken by a dragon?"

The whole story spilled out. The healer nodded and put a palm on Thelf's bulging belly. "These are dragon eggs. Press down here and you'll be able to feel one."

Trembling, Thelf put his hand where the healer's had been and pushed down. He could feel the shape of something under his skin, not so hard as he'd imagined a dragon's egg would be, but firm and rounded. "Will they kill me?"

"No," said the healer, "but our lord might if he believes you've fraternized with Lord Wyman's forces."

"It was a wild dragon!"

"He doesn't know that," the healer said. "And he's desperate to make an example of someone. If I were you, I'd leave as soon as possible."

"And where could I go?" Thelf was still shaking, pressing urgently against his stomach as if he could force the eggs out right now.

The healer said, "I hear Lord Wyman's army is in the north."

The next market day, Thelf sold his remaining sheep and as many valuables as he could move. His ewes went to the army purveyors. He barely even bothered to haggle, although the price they offered was highway robbery. He kept pulling his cloak tighter around him, afraid that they might see the swell of his belly and drag him in to be pilloried or worse.

The next day, he set out to meet the man even his king was afraid of.


	2. Hiding

Selling his worldly possessions left him enough for lodging or a horse, but not both. Thelf chose lodging, since he'd never learned to ride, and spent three long weeks plodding along roads that were alternately muddy and icy. It was bad enough to carry himself, but he was also weighted down by the ever-increasing eggs, which were still growing with no signs of ceasing.

At last he saw the first dragon in the distance, with a rider perched on its back. A day later he saw another flying toward one of the many castles Lord Wyman had taken. He approached the gate, which was open but none too busy. A pair of guards blocked his path. "What do you think you're doing?" the younger of the two asked.

"I need to see Lord Wyman," Thelf said urgently. He was sure he was close to term; how much bigger could the eggs possibly get before they wouldn't come out of him at all?

The older one laughed and played along as if Thelf were joking with him. "What business do you have with him?"

"I'm bringing him dragons," Thelf said.

The jokester made a show of peering around behind him. "Oh, really? You've hidden them so well."

Reluctantly, Thelf parted his cloak and showed the guards his belly. He did look very much like Eorman's wife now.

The guards stopped smiling. The younger one even half-knelt before he thought the better of it and rose again. "We must get you inside at once," the elder said. "My apologies for having a bit of fun. Lord Wyman will see you as soon as he's able."

The much-feared lord was not in this castle. Since the day was already halfway done, Thelf was told to rest there for the evening. He was brought to a lavish room with a genuine down mattress and velvet drapes hanging from the bedposts. Servants brought him rich food and sweet mead. He fell on the meal as if he hadn't eaten in a week.

There was a small silvered mirror lying on a side table, of the sort a lady might pick up to admire herself. Thelf lifted his tunic and tried to get a good look at himself. He thought the bulge of his belly looked grotesque, but something about the sight had his cock stirring, and he had to lie back on the bed and relieve himself with his hand.

Now and then on his walk he'd felt intense, brief flashes of anger. He'd assumed it was fury at his situation and grief for everything the dragon had taken from him when it pumped him full of eggs. After he'd cleaned himself up and settled into bed, he felt another bright shock of raw fury. It made no sense at all. Here he was being treated like a little lord, and all on account of the eggs he was carrying. Why was he so furious? The emotion vanished as quickly as it had come, almost as if it had never belonged to him at all. He tried to stew on his grievances, but fell asleep instead.

The next day he rose to a fine breakfast. A young knight came in right after, just as Thelf was wondering whether he had time to bring himself off quickly. "Lord Wyman will see you today," the knight said.

"Is he here already?" Thelf hadn't heard the sound of of a lord's retinue arriving in the night.

"He's fifty miles away. Here, I have a fur-lined cloak for travelling."

"But how will we go fifty miles in a day?" Thelf asked, catching the cloak on instinct as the knight tossed it to him. It was nicer than any piece of clothing he'd ever worn before.

The knight shrugged and, to Thelf's surprise, relaxed his formality enough to roll his eyes. "It's a tedious flight, but my lord is not always patient."

It was only Thelf's second time seeing a dragon up close. He was nearly mad with terror, even though the great red beast before him was lying on the flagstones like a docile old hound. It raised its head when its rider stepped forward to greet it, then turned its baleful gaze on Thelf.

"I can't possibly ride that," Thelf said, shrinking back.

"What happened to your dragon?" the knight asked. "Did it die?"

"I ran away," Thelf admitted. "I thought it was going to eat me."

The knight was kind enough to let Thelf take his time creeping closer. As he worked his way forward step by step, the knight began to talk about his own story. His name was Osric, and he'd been taken by a dragon he'd thought was wild in much the same way, but he'd learned better when he found the records of the ancient dragon riders. He'd borne two clutches now, the last a little more than a year ago. The king's wizard had helped him through wonderfully both times. His dragon could not speak in the voice of men, but Osric could understand him well enough and translate. The beast was very pleased to meet Thelf, and felt sorry for him that he'd lost his own dragon before he'd birthed even a single clutch.

At last Thelf felt brave enough to stretch out a shaking hand to stroke the dragon's broad head. Osric helped him onto the dragon's back and buckled him into a sturdy riding saddle before climbing on in front. "If you get uncomfortable, hold onto my shoulders," he said. "I promise you won't fall."

The dragon beat its wings and the ground fell away with a lurch. Thelf's heart was in his throat, a choking pressure that prevented him from yelling in fear. He clutched at the knight ahead of him as the harness straps dug into the skin under his sensitive belly.

He never fully relaxed, but by the end of the flight he'd gone from pure terror to cautious alertness. It was incredible how much he could see from up here. The land stretched out for miles in every direction, blanketed with snow.

He was stiff-legged when he landed and had to be helped down from the dragon's back. Osric clapped him on the shoulder. "You did well," he said. "Lord Wyman will be impressed."

Osric led him to the lord's hall and whispered to him that he did not have to kneel in his condition; a bow with his head only would do, or his shoulders if he felt up to it. Thelf dipped as low as he was able, supporting the weight of his belly with his hands, and rose to find his new lord beaming at him. "What a pleasant surprise this is! I am truly glad you chose to come here, Thelf."

Then, to his even greater surprise, Lord Wyman descended from the dais and kissed him on both cheeks. "Have a brooch made for him," he told one of his servants. Looking around, Thelf saw that some knights had gleaming brooches in the shape of dragons, others in the shape of eggs.

"The dragon brooches are for knights who've bred a clutch," Osric explained. "The eggs are for riders who have yet to breed. Many of Lord Wyman's dragons are still young." 

Thelf had noticed that there were far more eggs pinned to cloaks than dragons, but hadn't known what it signified. Osric had a magnificent dragon wrought in gold keeping his cloak on his shoulder.

He was being led out of the keep to a building on the grounds. "Where are we going now?"

"The wizard must examine you." Seeing Thelf's fear, he assured him, "Think of him as a very wise healer. He knows more than anyone else about breeding dragons."

Thelf had imagined a wizened old sage with a long white beard. He looked around the apothecary for him as Osric left, but the only occupant was a man who couldn't have been more than thirty. He was hunched over a book, writing carefully with a quill. Thelf cought politely and said, "Sir Osric told me the wizard would be here."

The man didn't look up from his work. "One moment," he said, but left Thelf standing there for several minutes, shifting from one foot to the other. At last he put his quill down, blew a handful of powder over the fresh ink to keep it from smearing, and heaved himself out of his seat with a groan.

He was hugely pregnant, bigger than Thelf thought could ever be possible. The vast swell of his belly was covered in fine embroidered cloth, a scene of flying dragons in gold thread. He waddled forward, giving Thelf a sharp look. "You're that farm boy. Lie down on this cot and let me have a look at you. Trousers off."

"Shepherd," Thelf corrected as he lay back, groaning a little himself. "Not a farm boy."

The wizard sat down on a stool beside the cot and pulled Thelf's tunic up. He began to prod at Thelf's belly, seemingly at random. "How many eggs are there?"

"I don't know," Thelf admitted. "I passed out when--I suppose when the first one went in."

The wizard made a sharp _tsk_ sound and poked hard at another spot. "Well, that makes things complicated."

"Will I die?" Thelf asked.

"Damn! You made me lose count," the wizard said. "I'll have to start over, and I'd thank you to stay quiet this time."

Thelf held his breath and tried to stay still as the wizard felt for the eggs through his skin. It had been a while since he'd tried to do it himself; he was afraid of discovering they'd grown even more inside him. "Six or seven all together," the wizard said at last. "We won't know for certain until they're out."

"Is that a lot? How many do you have?" If Thelf had six eggs, the wizard had to be carrying at least a dozen.

"Five in this clutch," the wizard said, leaning back in his seat and patting his swollen belly with an obvious sense of pride. "Twenty-two before that."

"But you're so much bigger than me!"

"I'm much further along than you are," the wizard said. "Spread your legs. No, wider than that. When did the dragon breed you?"

"In autumn," Thelf said, remembering the chill air of the mountains.

He could feel the wizard's slim, soft fingers spreading his cheeks and pressing against his hole the way the healer had before. "When in autumn exactly? Before or after the equinox?"

"After," Thelf said, and then gasped as the wizard's fingers slipped into him. This was a deeper examination than the healer's, probing around inside him. To his shame, his cock was getting hard. The wizard didn't seem to notice.

"You're not even halfway through then. What happened to your dragon?"

Thelf told the story of how he'd woken up and run away. It was difficult to keep his breathing steady and his words even as the wizard kept probing him. He thought of the horrible pain of first being penetrated by the dragon's cock, but even that did nothing to lessen his arousal.

"Well, that must be inconvenient for you. Can you feel its mind yet?" the wizard asked, twisting his fingers around in a way that made Thelf nearly arch off the cot.

He swallowed and tried to compose himself. "I don't understand."

"As the eggs grow, a rider begins to understand his dragon. Perhaps it doesn't work over such a great distance. Studying your situation will be a fascinating experiment." The wizard pulled his fingers out with a wet sucking sound. "In the meantime, since you have no dragon to satisfy you, you'll have to make do."

He curled his slick fingers around Thelf's cock and began to jerk him off. Thelf was too startled and far too out of his element to protest. In truth, he missed the movement of the wizard's fingers inside him, but he was quickly approaching climax. The wizard looked almost bored as he explained, "As your eggs grow, your urges will become more intense and you'll find it harder to pleasure yourself. I have too much work to dance attendance on you, so some of the knights will have to help."

Thelf came with a gasp, spurting all over the wizard's hand. The wizard sighed, stood with obvious effort, and went to get a wet cloth.

He'd thought he was going to become a knight, but as the days passed, he found that Lord Wyman was glad to have him but unsure of what to do with him. He had no dragon to ride, and even if he did, he needed years of training to fight. The wizard put him to work preparing ingredients for potions.

He wasn't the only pregnant man under the wizard's care. Two knights had been newly bred, their clutches barely more than a bump under their skin, but they pulled up their tunics proudly and talked about how large they would get. There was also a stern knight named Cynn, so large he couldn't walk. Thelf had to sleep in the infirmary with Cynn and his two dragons, terrified by both the dragons and the grotesque shape of the knight's belly.

"How many eggs is he carrying?" he asked the wizard nervously while Cynn was sleeping.

"Twelve this time. Don't worry, you don't have that many."

As the days passed, Thelf grew less nervous being around the wizard. He always seemed sure of what he was doing. On the rare occasions Thelf asked him a question he couldn't answer immediately, he'd go hunting for information in his records or devise an experiment to see what the truth might be. "This would be easier if you looked for the answers yourself," he said, when Thelf had asked him a series of questions about where all the food he ate went if he didn't expel it, and why the dragon eggs took so long to grow, and if a man ate twice as much would that make the eggs grow in half the time?

"I don't know how to read," Thelf said. The wizard grumbled about that, but in the evening he sat Thelf down with a page of carefully inked letters and pointed out each in turn until he recognized them all. "Copy them here, and say the sounds as you write," the wizard said, and retired to the vast bedroom he shared with his yellow-scaled dragon.

Thelf learned how to desiccate yellowroot, how to stitch cut skin cleanly, and how to spell his own name before his studies were briefly interrupted. The wizard paused in the middle of telling him the three best ways to draw infection from a wound and put a hand to his stomach, groaning in a way that sounded like terrible pain.

"Are you hurt?" Thelf asked in a panic.

"The eggs are coming," the wizard said. "Fetch me the potions in the cabinet--no, the other cabinet. Next to the alligator's skull. No, that's the crocodile's skull. Yes, those potions."

Thelf hurried over with a rack of vials. The wizard selected two and downed them. "Help me to my bedroom," he said.

Thelf let the wizard lean heavily on his arm as he took slow, careful steps. He'd never been inside the wizard's bedroom before and was still afraid of the huge yellow dragon with the pile of eggs between its forelegs.

"Help me lift this robe up. No, on second thought, better to take it off entirely." The wizard paused to moan and clutch at Thelf's shoulder. When he lifted the robe, he saw the muscles of the wizard's belly tightening in a cramp. In spite of it all, the wizard's cock was standing as straight as it would go, brushing the underside of his enormous girth.

The wizard began to walk back and forth across the room, his cock bobbing with every step. "How much does it hurt?" Theft asked.

"It won't hurt at all when the potion starts working." He paused and grunted as his stomach rippled with another contraction. "Ah, there, it's working now."

He still looked as though he were in pain, or equally overwhelmed by some other sensation. Thelf's curiosity about what was going to happen to him won out over his fear of the dragon. He stayed in the room, waiting for further instructions. At last the wizard snapped at him to help him squat. Thelf sat down on the edge of the wizard's bed. The wizard, heaving with exertion, sank down on his haunches. Thelf supported him under his shoulders. Leaning forward increased the pressure on his own belly and reminded him that he'd have to do this too in the autumn.

"Are you really not in pain?" he asked while the wizard bore down and clenched his teeth against what sounded suspiciously like a sob.

"This really isn't the time for questions," the wizard said, and gasped again.

The dragon put its huge head forward and began to lick between the wizard's legs. The wizard gave a sharp cry that drew out into what sounded like a moan. A short time later, it happened again. The third time, the wizard's stomach had shrunk enough for Thelf to see the wizard's cock still standing up below it. When a huge contraction rippled through him, his cock pulsed seed against his stomach. Thelf's breath caught. Was the wizard really enjoying this? Would he enjoy it too?

It happened a fourth time, and a fifth, and then the wizard sighed and relaxed in Thelf's arms. "Help me onto the bed," he said. "And fetch a wet cloth, the dragon's got me covered in slobber."

Thelf did as he was commanded. The wizard was lying on the bed, his knees up and his legs parted, so Thelf had a clear view of his hole. It was fluttering with tiny versions of the wizard's contractions, and for a moment it even winked open. He hurried to clean the wizard up.

For the first time, the wizard seemed fully relaxed. "Thelf," he murmured, his voice thick with oncoming sleep. "Doesn't that mean twelve?"

"My mother ran out of names by the time I came along," Thelf admitted.

"An auspicious name. You'll be even more fertile than her, if you ever manage to find your dragon." His eyes were fluttering shut, so Thelf left him.

While the wizard recovered, Thelf took on the lighter tasks he had enough training to manage. Caring for Cynn was easier than he'd expected. The dragons did most of the work of turning him over and carrying him from place to place. Thelf only needed to bring him food and help him sit up enough to eat it. "Is the wizard lying to me?" he asked. "Is it really not painful?"

"It was, a bit, the first time," Cynn admitted. The tips of his ears went very red as his continued, "But there is a sort of--pleasure as well, that helps you ignore the pain. And the wizard's been working on his potions. This time, he says it won't hurt."

The next day, Thelf went to take Cynn his breakfast and opened the door to find him half off the bed. The green dragon was crouching over him, pumping away furiously. Cynn was gasping and groaning, not at all like his usual stern self, as the dragon took him. Thelf stood frozen as the green dragon pulled off him and the blue took over, even faster in its assault, making Cynn moan all the louder. His cock was knocking up against his own belly, desperate for attention. He closed the door, put Cynn's cooling porridge down on the wizard's work table, and hiked up the robe the wizard had leant him. It was getting difficult to reach his cock well enough to satisfy himself, so he pressed it hard against his belly and humped into his hand, imagining what it might have felt like if he'd stayed conscious through his single encounter with the dragon that had taken him. He didn't even know what color it was; he just had to conjure up a heavy shape looming over him in the darkness, the horrible invasion of a beast's cock pressing in to his sensitive hole, the sensation of being filled up over and over again.

He came, making a mess over his hand and belly, and sighed. Cynn had two dragons, and he had none at all. Perhaps, if he asked very nicely...

No, he wouldn't let a dragon fuck him again. He cleaned up and heated Cynn's breakfast back up over one of the wizard's lamps.

The wizard had told him that it took years from one clutch of eggs to the next, but little more than a week later, Thelf heard a louder moaning than usual coming from the wizard's bedroom. He burst in, afraid the wizard had some complication after his birthing, and found himself facing the yellow dragon's rear. Its tail was lifted, giving Thelf a clear view of its cock, which was disappearing into the wizard's hole and reemerging wet and shining. There was a heavy bulb at the base of it. It pushed that bulge against the wizard's ass a few times, pushing fruitlessly, and finally the wizard yelped as the dragon thrust again and got the whole thing inside. It pumped away for a while, then another bulge appeared and was forced up inside as well. The wizard nearly screamed, and Thelf could his seed streaking the floor where it landed.

He'd been staring for far too long to pretend it was an accident. He backed away, shutting the door very carefully to muffle the sound. Despite the weight of the eggs inside him, he felt very empty. The wizard had told him that he'd tried to take a mold of his dragon's cock once, but only managed the first foot. Perhaps he still had it around somewhere.

After half an hour of careful searching, he found the artificial cock. It looked enormous in his hands, made of heavy clay. The wizard had glazed it in white and painted the flared base with blue flowers, perhaps as a joke; Thelf was finding that the wizard had a stranger sense of humor than he could comprehend.

He lay back on the cot in the apothecary and lined the head of the cock up with his hole. It wasn't as painful as he remembered going in, perhaps because his hole was always wet inside now. He worked it in deeper, wondering how he might get the right leverage to thrust it in and out. Just a few clumsy strokes of his cock, and he was coming already.

Why not go for two? He was still working at it when the wizard emerged from his bedroom, looking sleek and fresh-faced as if he hadn't just been pumped full of dragon eggs. The wizard laughed and said, "Well, I suppose you've found a way to make do," and reached between his legs to seize the base of the clay cock so he could pump it in and out. Thelf came again, nearly sobbing in relief. It was the first time he'd felt even close to satisfied since the eggs had started growing in him.


	3. Finding

The months wore on, but the wizard kept Thelf too busy to worry much about his impending labor. He could read a full page of text, if it used small and simple words, and brew the potions that took pain away and restored energy by himself. He'd assisted Cynn with his birth, the knight assuring him that it didn't hurt at all this time between groans and desperate sobs. He pushed out an incredible number of eggs. The wizard got the chance to show Thelf how to reposition an egg that was stuck, and at the end, how to pull out two that Cynn was too tired to push. He'd never imagined he could fit his whole hand inside someone without hurting them, but each time he drew the huge eggs out, Cynn moaned and a weak spurt of seed pumped out from his cock.

Thelf was learning to make do without a dragon. The knights were happy to have a rider so eager to fuck them, and he was even visited by Lord Wyman himself, a high honor. He was meek and nervous, but a lord's cock felt the same as any other in the end. Sometimes, as an incentive to work out a difficult problem all by himself, the wizard rewarded him by helping him fuck himself with the clay cock. 

Finally, taking pity on him, the wizard even had the great yellow dragon roll over and told Thelf to climb up. Shaking with a combination of fear and desperate excitement, Thelf began to work the dragon's huge cock into him. The wizard settled into place behind him, holding him steady with his hands clamped on the swell of his belly.

It took a long time to sink down to the base of the dragon's cock. At the very end, he felt another, much smaller intrusion pushing into his hole. The wizard was entering him too, and he was taking it all somehow. He gasped and came almost at once, and was ready to go two more times after that.

"Thank you, wizard," he said afterwards, leaning back against the wizard, who'd finally pulled out of him. The dragon's cock was inside him, softening now, but he didn't feel up to standing just yet. He could feel the wizard's eggs against his back, already beginning to twitch as the dragonlings grew their legs and wings.

"You might as well call me Selwyn," the wizard said, before pressing an unexpected soft kiss to the sweaty skin at the base of his neck.

"Why?" Thelf asked.

"Because that's my name," the wizard said.

He learned Selwyn's secret when he was only a month out from finally birthing his clutch. His eggs grew faster and he was nearly always pregnant because he'd dosed himself and his dragon with potions that sped up their cycles of breeding. "Lord Wyman might ask the same of you if you ever do find your dragon," Selwyn said. Before Thelf could do more than open his mouth and look hopeful, he continued, "And no, you can't borrow mine. It _does_ like you, but not like that," he added, when Thelf had failed to hide his disappointment.

He turned away, clenching his hands on the tabletop because they were were shaking in sudden anger. The flashes of bitter fury were coming more frequently now, and with less provocation. He'd be grinding herbs, or kneeling to let a knight fuck him, or reading the wizard's notes and then the rage would crash over him. He'd told Selwyn about it, worried that it might be some symptom of his pregnancy, but even Lord Wyman's wizard had no ideas. "It's been a very strange year for you," was all he could say.

Selwyn reached over and touched his straining knuckles lightly. "Is it happening again?"

Thelf nodded, clenching his jaw until his teeth creaked in his head. When he was in these moods, Selwyn's sympathy was worse than his irritation or boredom.

"Can you tell me what it feels like? Try to be specific."

"I'm not--I can't--" Thelf took a deep, sobbing breath. "It feels as if something precious has been stolen from me."

"Your flock, perhaps? Your old home?"

Thelf shook his head. He was so busy he never had time to miss his sheep. In truth, it hadn't been a very good life anyway. Though his belly caused him a little discomfort from time, he was never hungry or lonely or cold and rarely bored.

"Try to think harder on it. If it's an object, we can find it. Lord Wyman will spare no expense. I only need to pretend it's something useful for an experiment, and he'll move heaven and earth for it."

As soon as the feeling had come on, it was gone again. "It's over now. Maybe it won't come back again."

It happened twice more that day. That night, as he was weakly palming his cock in his bed, it swept over him a third time. He tried to seize on some concrete source of his bitterness, and settled on the emptiness he felt inside. Selwyn only let him fuck the yellow dragon once a week now; he was too big already to ride behind, and too needy to waste too much of his own dragon's ardor on someone else.

For the first time, the anger took form, becoming an interrogation in his mind he didn't know how to answer. Where was he? Lord Wyman's castle. Where was that? In the north--he'd followed the road. What did it look like from the air? He wasn't sure, he'd only seen it once from the back of Osric's dragon, and he'd had his eyes squeezed shut for most of the landing.

The weight of the emotion seemed to be pushing at him from inside, a furious inquisition. Thelf let go of his cock and pressed his shaking palms to his forehead. Were the eggs growing well? Yes, of course, the dragonlings were thrashing around madly inside him. Was he being fed? As much as he could eat and more. Was he getting fucked? Not nearly as much as he wanted, never enough, he was desperate to be filled up the way he needed--

His cock pulsed and he came against his belly without touching it, feeling strange and shivery. The anger ebbed as quickly as it had come on. He heaved himself up for a clean cloth and went to find Selwyn.

"I think your dragon is trying to find you," Selwyn said, rubbing sympathetically at his stomach as it heaved. Whatever had upset him had upset the dragonlings too, and he was waiting for the potion he'd downed to calm them enough that he could get some sleep. "I'll take you up above the castle so you can get a good look at it."

He did as he'd promised the very next day, and even flew a few miles in either direction so Thelf could get a sense of the terrain. Another crashing wave of anger took him in the middle of the flight. He was deluged with questions again, almost too fast to comprehend. Why was he riding another dragon? He'd needed to see the castle from the air. Was it going to steal his eggs and eat them? Of course not, they were far too precious to eat, and Selwyn's dragon was always well-behaved. Was it going to steal him and breed him? It would only breed Selwyn. What would happen when he needed to breed again? Who'd fuck the eggs into him? Who was going to fill him up, driving deep into that tight wet hole, pumping seed into him to keep him loose and happy?

He clutched at Selwyn's shoulders and came in his riding trousers, sobbing as the furious pressure bore down on his mind and his empty hole twitched.

The final month ground on. Three or four times a day, Thelf was stopped in his tracks by that insistent push in his mind. He'd squeeze his head or his belly, trying to respond to the furious onslaught. He'd always come by the end, but as soon as the next one started the dragon needed to know if he was satisfied yet, and no, he was never satisfied. Selwyn even let him fuck the yellow dragon more, theorizing that perhaps the sedating effect of the dragon's seed was what he needed, but it only drove the presence in his mind wilder to know that he was letting some other dragon have him.

Thelf had fallen into a doze with his hand pressed against his belly, trying to calm the dragonlings, which were fighting back against two doses of potion. He'd been up nearly all night, with the anger crashing down on him in a fresh wave every time he was on the verge of sleep. He'd come until he was sore and still felt no closer to being sated. He started awake and groaned as his head pounded again with a fresh rush of keening rage. The knights were shouting outside. Someone must have gotten hurt, but Selwyn would have to deal with it.

Selwyn rushed in and shook him instead. "It's here," he said, sounding less certain than Thelf had ever heard him.

"What? Stop shaking me." It felt as though something was screaming for him inside his skull. He felt tears streaming down his face. He was so close to coming, just a few moments more--

Selwyn huffed and pulled him to his feet. When Thelf reached for his robe, he snapped, "No time," and dragged him toward the door.

They were both waddling now, close to laying their eggs, but Selwyn was still spry enough to move fast when he wanted to. Thelf was dragged along behind, one hand clapped against his temple, not sure whether he was going to come or pass out first from the overwhelming sensation.

There was a new dragon in the yard. Its scales were gray with dirt, its mad yellow eyes rolling in its head. There was no saddle on its back and no sign of a rider anywhere. The knights were standing well clear of it. Osric's red dragon approached, and the filthy gray beast roared at it before spitting a fierce burst of flame in its direction. It had the good sense to retreat. 

Selwyn, normally the canniest of them all, kept dragging Thelf toward the beast. It was paying them no attention, so he waved with the hand that wasn't clapped around Thelf's wrist and shouted. "He's here! Come over this way, you brute."

The new dragon passed its eyes over Thelf, then fixed its gaze on Selwyn. Thelf felt the fire as if it were bubbling up from his own gut. He put on a burst of speed and managed to throw himself in front of his friend. "I'm here," he called out. "He's not hurting me, I promise, he was only taking me to you."

The dragon rushed at him and seized him, lifting him into the air. Thelf thought as hard as he could that the castle was his _home_ , and everyone had been very nice to him, and he wanted to lay his eggs with all the comforts of Selwyn's apothecary instead of out in the wilderness. By the time he'd convinced the dragon it had already flown several minutes from the castle. It turned back, landing heavily in the most private spot it could find behind the kitchen garden.

Thelf was already in his nightshirt, which had become so tight on his belly he only had to hike it up a few inches. He fell forward onto his knees and the dragon rammed its cock into him, fucking him with force that should have been bruising, but all Thelf could feel was the pleasure of finally being filled the way he needed. He came again and again, shaking, and the dragon filled him with so much seed that it was leaking out of him with every thrust. His swaying belly was rubbing grass stains onto his shirt and he could feel his popped-out navel brushing the ground.

The dragon seemed to be trying to make up for a year of deprivation all at once. Thelf had almost fainted by the time it noticed his weakness and pulled out. They were both still hard but equally exhausted, the dragon by its long and desperate flight, Thelf from a night of being kept awake followed by hours of being plowed without pause.

He rolled onto his back, watching his belly quiver and heave as he breathed, and bid the dragon to carry him back to the apothecary. It obliged him with a deference that was new but not unwelcome. It refused to come inside the infirmary until Thelf entered, and then in barged in immediately after him, hissing at anyone who came near until Thelf thought hard on how hungry he was and how he'd starve to death if Selwyn wasn't allowed to bring him any food. Then it was the very picture of meekness, lying on the floor with its head on its foreclaws and its yellow eyes gazing up at him adoringly.

The next few days were a haze of fucking, punctuated on occasion by naps and meals. Thelf finally convinced the dragon that they should both bathe, and found that under the layers of dirt were shining silver scales. "Silver and gold," Selwyn said approvingly, standing just outside the doorway; the dragon would let him come no closer, since it hadn't yet made his mind up whether to be grateful Selwyn had taken care of him or angry that Selwyn and his dragon had fucked him.

_Be grateful_ , Thelf thought, lingering mentally on how desperately he'd needed to be filled. The dragon took the memory for an invitation and was already moving to crouch over him again. Thelf's hole was still loose and wet, but he rolled over and stuck his ass up as far as it would go. Selwyn shook his head and closed the door.

The dragon was fucking him from behind, as usual, when he felt a cramp in his abdomen. He thought it was only exertion, but after a while another came, and he realized that he was in labor. He called for Selwyn, who came waddling, since even he couldn't run anymore. "The potions," Thelf managed to gasp between the dragon's thrusts. Another rocked him forward. "They're coming," he added.

Selwyn got the potions and approached the dragon carefully. Thelf managed to seize them and down them one after another. He ought to get up off his knees, but it felt so _good_ to be filled up so completely, especially when Selwyn's formulas started working and the contractions no longer came with pain.

The dragon came inside him and didn't even pause before it started pounding away again. Thelf's cock was slapping against his twitching belly, and he had no way to reach it. He was so close to coming, he could feel it, he just needed a little more.

The first of his eggs was dropping. He felt the dragon stop with a jerk and withdraw in a hurry. The sudden emptiness was terrible, but then he felt the egg moving down, and he was full again. As he pushed, the dragon's cock settled at his crack. It began to rub itself up and down his back, rocking Thelf's whole body as he pushed. It felt enormous, it reached nearly to the middle of his back, and he'd taken it _all_.

The egg popped free. Thelf shouted and came. His mind was so closely linked to the dragon's that it came too, coating his shoulders with seed. He was too overcome with sensation to care about the mess as the next egg began to push its way out. Gods, yes, this was what he needed. He heaved it out, and the dragon spurted more on top of him as he writhed under it.

The third was easy, and the fourth, and the fifth. By the sixth his strength was beginning to flag, but he was too hoarse from days of moaning and screaming to call out for Selwyn. The dragon rubbed its cock harder against him, humping him until he was afraid he'd fall over, and finally with a last push he forced it out.

He paused, gasping. Hadn't Selwyn said there were six? But his cock was still hard, and the dragon was still grinding away at him. He felt the abused muscles of his abdomen fluttering weakly. There was a seventh after all.

He spent the last of his strength pushing. It was in there, he could feel it, but he couldn't force it out. The dragon sense his distress and began to whine even as it humped him. At last Thelf collapsed and rolled over, too tired even to cry. The potions had worn off and it was starting to hurt again every time a weak contraction shook him.

Selwyn had the sense to check in on him when he'd taken too long. The dragon had pulled off and was tonguing at his hole, but it didn't know what to do. The egg was too far up. "Tell your beast to move," Selwyn said. He waddled forward and tipped the potions down Thelf's throat.

Thelf clutched weakly at his robe. "Please stay," he whispered.

Selwyn sighed and looked around for a clean spot to sit down. Thelf's bed was covered in its seed. He gripped Thelf's hand tight in his, rubbed his aching stomach until he found the bulge of the last egg, and said, "There, I found it. It won't be any trouble at all."

The potions worked their magic, but it _was_ trouble, because it got stuck sideways coming out. Selwyn had to reach in to reposition it while Thelf's dragon hung in furious indecision between fear for the egg and fear that someone else was penetrating his human. At last the alignment was right, and Thelf pushed again, managing only a final weak cry as it crowned and he came.

"Gods, you're filthy," Selwyn said, laughing as he pushed Thelf's wet hair back from his neck and forehead. Some of the dampness was sweat and some was the dragon's seed, which was beginning to turn tacky as it dried. His dragon had gathered up all the eggs and retreated to the corner of the room, where it was bathing them in flame.

Thelf didn't feel strong enough to move, so Selwyn cleaned up the worst of the damage with a wet rag. He fell asleep and woke the next day, wishing he'd washed up better. He was nearly stuck to the bed. He staggered into the apothecary, not caring how he looked, and found a bath drawn up for him and potions beside it that would heat the water and soothe his aching muscles. Selwyn came in as he was floating and said, "Who's this in my apothecary? It can't be my friend Thelf, I wouldn't recognize him at all without a dragon's cock in him."

"You're jealous because your dragon can only fuck you twice before it tires itself out," Thelf said, flicking a little water at him.

"Three times yesterday," Selwyn said, pulling up a stool so he could sit beside the bathtub. He lowered himself with a groan and pulled a comb from his sleeve to smooth the tangles out of Thelf's hair. "And I had the good sense not to lose track of my dragon, so I win in total."

"I'll catch up to you." Thelf tipped his head back against the side of the tub and closed his eyes as he felt the comb tugging gently at his scalp. "I want to be like you."

"You're coming along well in your studies. Nobody's born a wizard, it's all hard work. I was born the fifth son of Lord Dunstan, and he only sent me to school to get rid of me."

Thelf's eyes snapped open and he sat up in the bath. "Lord Dunstan, who Lord Wyman just routed at Ethelholme?"

"I was not his favorite son," Selwyn conceded.

Thelf relaxed into the water again. It was still perfectly warm, and his aches were already fading away. "I mean I want to be a dragon breeder like you," he said. "And also a wizard, since I'll have time to spare if my dragon ever calms down."

Selwyn laughed, but his eyes were grave. "Are you sure? You had a rough go of it the first time."

"It will be better now that my dragon's here." He pressed a damp hand against the front of Selwyn's robe, where even the golden dragons were straining against his bulk. He could feel the dragonlings stirring beneath, giving delicate little twitches as if they were dreaming. "And I did like being filled up. And Lord Wyman's easy to serve. He doesn't ask for much."

"Only any hole that happens to be free from time to time," said Selwyn, pressing his hand over Thelf's. "Very well. If I dose your dragon with the potion now, you'll be bred by spring. That way we can alternate seasons instead of always being about to lay at the same time."

Thelf settled back in the water, satisfied. He could feel his dragon's pleasure growing in his mind, as it began to comprehend that they would never be separated again, and that Thelf would carry as many of its clutches as he could bear. It even made no objection when Selwyn stood and braced himself with one hand on the rim of the tub, his split robe pushed to the side, while Thelf sat up to suck as much as his cock he could reach around the enormous swell of his belly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I'm blown away by the kudos and the kind comments! I wasn't expecting anyone to read this. Thanks to everyone for the encouragement. What a way to break out of a solid year of writer's block.


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